


Budapest

by wildandwhirlingwords



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adlock, F/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildandwhirlingwords/pseuds/wildandwhirlingwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He might be undercover, but he leaves a trail, whispers, rumours, things that no one dares to say aloud. She has pieced together every piece, every scrap, and followed them to here."</p>
<p>Irene knows that Sherlock is alive and she has a habit of appearing to spend the night with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Budapest

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @mydearmoran. My inbox is open for prompts/feedback :)

[Text] I’m in Budapest. Let’s have dinner. IA

He might be undercover, but he leaves a trail, whispers, rumours, things that no one dares to say aloud. She has pieced together every piece, every scrap, and followed them to here.

Night has fallen and her breath mists in the air in front of her as she looks out across the Danube, phone clutched in one leather clad hand. The sounds of city life recede into the background; her ears are filled instead with the sound of the water moving below her. Her eyes are filled with the stars.

[Text alert; one new message]

His response has arrived with such alacrity that she half expects the breath of wind on the back of her neck to be him, she can almost feel his body moulding around hers, one arm around her waist, the fingers of the other lifting her hair aside to allow his lips access to the skin of her throat.

When she turns around, however, there is no one to be seen.

[Text] Too slow, Miss Adler. I left Budapest three days ago. Usually you’d know that by now. I’m almost disappointed. SH

A smirk creeps over her scarlet lips.

[Text] I apologise, Mr Holmes, my information must be out of date. IA

[Text] It is a shame. I was rather looking forward to seeing you again. IA

[Text] Tell me where you are. Let’s have dinner. IA

Her fingers tap against the weathered stone of the bridge, a thrill running along her spine and making her shiver more than the chill breeze rippling through her thick fur coat as she anticipates his reply. Her impatience is rewarded within seconds.

[Text alert; two new messages]

[Text] I could tell you… But that would be no fun for either of us. I thought you knew me better than that, now I am disappointed. SH

[Text] Find me and then we will have dinner. SH

Her eyes narrow but her smirk widens, tongue darting out to wet her lips; it is just the kind of challenge that she has missed.

The lights on the waterway of the Hungarian capital give way to the snow of the Alps as she makes her way through Berne and Geneva, once more following a trail of whispers that is paved with rumours, rumours of a shadow that has passed through, never stopping, never lingering, rumours of a shadow that flees in the night.

They lead her to Vienna and then to into the Czech Republic where the whispers cease.

[Text] I’m in Prague. Let’s have dinner. IA

It is another night. She walks along another bridge.

He is waiting for her, seated outside despite the chill at a table laid for two, a bottle of champagne sitting on ice. He has just received her text and is halfway through a reply when she slides into the seat opposite him.

He does not look up immediately, but sets his phone aside, a pinch in his brow as he studies the way the way that the lights of the city are reflected in the silver of his knife.

“Five days… Not bad, Miss Adler.” Finally his eyes flicker up to hers and she extends one hand to him. He brings it to his lips for the briefest of moments. “Not bad at all. Now… Let’s have dinner.”


End file.
